


Infernal Reprieve

by Miss_sunfire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Demisexual Darcy Lewis, Demisexuality, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, succubus!darcylewis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_sunfire/pseuds/Miss_sunfire
Summary: The chips are down, the die is cast. Thanos is seconds away from having all of the infinity stones. All of earth’s mightiest heroes lie bleeding and crumpled around him. All hope is lost except…A demon, a princess from hell offers one last saving grace. A faustian bargain trading Thanos death for the very soul of earth’s mightiest he-Wait what? All she wants is a date with Natasha Romanoff to save the universe? Dafuq?And why is Earth now at war with the eternal golden army of heaven?Or, that one weird ass story where Darcy is an oversexed and bored succubus who’s entirely done with your shit and Natasha really just wants a fucking week where the world doesn’t explode as well as a nice cup of tea.





	1. The end of the world as we know it

**Author's Note:**

> So, I will say I suuuuuper loved that infinity war had the kajones to actually go with the ending they did. However, many feelings were had, and thus another story was born. 
> 
> Plus I really just like the idea of a demisexual succubus

********************************************

Natasha groans in pain as her back slides down a rough tree on the broken plains of Wakanda. Screams of pain and roaring battle echo all around her. Pain lances through her as her leg complains about the rough treatment. It’s broken and at least a few of the spy’s ribs are cracked. Pain lances through her and she cries out as her ass collides with the ground. The woman searches around in frantic exhaustion looking for her teammates. 

It’s not pretty. Thor, spiffy new axe and all was just backhanded across the field and is now lying in a bloody heap of rubble. Wanda took a piece of shrapnel to the gut and is slowly bleeding out. Bucky’s arm was ripped out of it’s socket leading Steve to abandon all sense and charge directly at Thanos to avenge his lover. It did not go well and now the cap is being hung by his neck in the air as the monster slowly chokes the life out of him. 

And vision...vision has had the mind stone ripped out of his fucking head. The last gem of infinite power, the last requirement to Thanos culling half the universe lies on the grass not 5 feet away from her. 

Grimly Natasha pushes herself to drag her last knife out of it’s holster on her leg as the behemoth villain strides over to her, dying captain in hand. Her widow bites are used up and broken. Every last gun is empty, no backup ammunition remains. All her other hidden tools and tricks are used up. There are no more covers, no more backup plans, no more traps. Just a crippled woman standing up against a infinitely more powerful wall of muscle with nothing but a pointy bit of metal. 

She sighs, bracing for the death that she knows is coming, but determined to die fighting. The spy palms the knife, glaring under her eyelashes at Thanos as she holds the blade in a downwards icepick grip. Her muscles twitch, daring him to make a move for it, even as the bastard fucking smirks at her.

Her attention is momentarily broken when her radio crackles. Falcon shouts some sort of message about Foster’s damn fool assistant and an RV, but it really doesn’t register with Natasha. She forces her attention to the here and now, the last moment that matters, the last one she may ever have. The assassin’s muscles tense, ready to do battle with the titan. 

Only, his forward motion is brought up short when a large van smacks into Thanos from the side. Rather than doing any real damage the titan seems merely a bit stunned and surprised. Stumbling enough that he drops Steve at least, who drops to the ground coughing and spitting. 

The vehicle on the other hand is totaled. Whoever it’s occupant is is most certainly dead as the cab is wrapped entirely around the alien. Thanos fist has punched through the driver’s side window obviously killing whoever is inside. Natasha sighs a little at the useless gesture even as she thanks whatever suicidal fool may have given her an opening. 

...only, she pauses again when obsidian smoke starts to billow out of the vehicle. It howls and circles over Thanos’s head. The alien looks surprised and a little apprehensive as the smoke billows downwards into a tight ball in front of him. A resounding snap sounds and suddenly a pair of lithe arms are flying out of the smoke. There’s a flash of pretty brunette hair and creamy skin as the arms are flung around the alien Titan’s shoulders. 

Then he’s growling and the woman is kissing him, long, slow and seductive. After a long moment in which the world seems too stunned to function the rest of the smoke coalesces. Slowly Natasha’s brain processes the inconceivable visual input as a very familiar brunette, Darcy Lewis, Thor’s ex’s assistant, is making out with a fucking space god. 

...and then there’s a husky, unbelievably sultry voice is echoing through the battlefield. All smokey harmony and soothing dulcet tones with just a hint of wry naughtiness. Entirely inappropriate for the field of battle. Natasha's very core clenches, want and need rocking through her as the voice shakes something loose deep inside her. 

“Thanos baby, you’ve been a veeeeeeerrrry naughy boy. Seems like Momma’s gonna have to give you a spanking cutie pie.” Darcy says with a wink and a giggle.

Thanos growls and tries to move. His muscles twitch with effort even as he seems rooted to the spot. A roar of impotent rage echos from his throat. 

“Who are you?! What have you done to me?!!!” The god roars. 

Darcy giggles, entirely unconcerned with the rage of the unstoppable space hulk. “Snookums, don’t tell me you don’t remember me? It’s only been what, few centuries since you made your deal? Sure you didn’t sign up with me, but we bore witness at least.” The woman explains with a giggle at the confused expression on the Titan’s face. “How about-” The assistant begins saying. 

Darcy smirks naughtily, raising her right hand in the air to strike a dramatic pose and snapping a finger loudly. Black smoke gushes from her skin, starting on her outstretched hand and running along her body. In a second it’s covered the entire intern in swirling ebony. In five it’s rapidly subsiding. In seven an almost entirely unrecognizable being is standing in her place. 

Long, shapely legs are left entirely bare except for tall heeled boots of incredibly supple looking shiny black leather. Decorative silver buckles run up and down her calves. Cruelly pointed heels made of what looks like ivory bone support the woman. They look organic, almost like there an actual part of her rather than a garment. Swishing between her legs is a long, thin tail covered in supple black fur and ending in a flared spade. Around her waist is an elaborate belt. Black cloth with elaborate silver designs drapes down a little like a loincloth, clinging close and teasing what lies beneath. 

Her torso is mostly unadorned save for a strapless black leather bra, struggling valiantly to hold back the woman’s even more impressive bust. A ruby pendant hangs from the bra, settling over the woman’s navel. Another hangs from her neck, bouncing in her cleavage. Silky black opera gloves, covered in tiny diamonds set in intricate patterns adorn her forearms. 

Last, but certainly most striking is how the woman’s face and head has changed. Shoulder length brunette hair and piercing blue eyes are gone. Now a thick black mane of hair coils over and around her shoulders, coming all the way down to her curvy ass. Bright crimson highlights are scattered throughout. Her eyes are a piercing warm amber that steals Natasha’s breath away. 

...and there’s a six inch ivory horn now sprouting from the center of the woman’s forehead, curving up to the sky. A last ruby pendant dangles from it, resting between Darcy’s brows. 

When the transformation is over Thanos gasps and splutters with rage. “What are you doing here demon? Hell has no place in this conflict. My bargain was made-” The titan begins shouting, spittle spraying forward. 

“With heaven two hundred years ago, yes I know. And I know the treaty of limitations on inter-dimensional contracts restricting interference from third parties.” Darcy says with a sigh and a shrug. 

“But, you see, after much deliberation and studying of the relevant articles, yadda yadda yadda, I’ve been sent as a messenger from the council of hell. As is our sovereign right under the checks and balances of interdimensional contracts treaty we are allowed to offer a single counter-offer to a potentially wronged party of a cosmic level 6 or higher treaty. Blah blah blah refer to page 1178 paragraph 10 subsection 4, further reading on page 1180. Ect ect ect.” The woman explains, looking supremely bored, even yawning, despite the pulse pounding terror of the situation. 

“So yeah, insert three hours of lawyer speak here. We have about 5 minutes before the charm spell I put on you wears off and the big boss upstairs gets wind of this and lights my ass up. In that time I get to offer one lucky person here another deal, and you’re going to sit there like a good little boy Thanos-sweetie.” Darcy explains with a cheshire grin as she spins on her heel. 

Thanos curses and swears at her even as the woman struts over confidently to stand over Natasha’s pained form. A dark grimace distorts her features before the woman kneels down. Natasha momentarily panics as a noxious looking purple light circles around her fingers. Darcy brings them down to rest on Natasha’s broken leg and suddenly the spy is howling in pain. Reflexively her knife darts out, cutting a deep gouge into the demon’s cheek. 

Only, seconds later the pain recedes and Natasha’s leg feels as good as new. Better even, than it has in years after all the accumulated injuries. Her entire body feels lighter, stronger than before, the weight of years sloughing off her. Natasha’s eyes narrow at the woman who has a teasing smirk on her face. 

“Hold your horses girl. Knife play is more of a third date type of thing for me.” Darcy says with a cackle, entirely unconcerned about being attacked by the assassin. It turns into a full out laughing fit of deep belly laughter at the frown that elicits on Natasha’s face. Eventually the giggles subside and her look becomes sombre. Regal even. She snaps her fingers and a long piece of brown parchment appears in her hand along with a cruel looking sharp quilled pen. 

“Now, Natalia Alianova Romanova. Do you accept to treat with me, Princess Darcialeutrix, also known as Darcy Lewis, lady of lust, succubus commander of the second layer of hell, whore of babylon, seducer and defiler of men, women and all those who lay betwixt over the issue of Thanos? I am prepared to strip him of his immortality and strength, rendering him unable to use the infinity gauntlet to cull the universe. In return I would request the honor of your presence at dinner one week hence for the duration of at least one hour. What say you?” The demon demands, her voice echoing throughout the battlefield. All stop to turn and listen, a hush falling over those assembled. 

Natasha doesn’t even really need to think about it. Just seconds ago she was prepared to die, and now there might be a way out, a second chance. Darcy, the demon or whoever the fuck this is could well be lying, but it’s not like the situation could actually get any worse. It’s already the end of the world. How can selling her soul or whatever this is possibly make the situation worse? Hell, with her past, it’s not like she even really has one to begin with. 

She nods and agrees. Darcialeutrix grins, her hand darting out to stab the quill into Natasha’s shoulder. The spy yelps, hand darting out to clamp down harshly around her wrist. 

“Easy there sugar. It's a Faustian bargain after all. It has to be signed in your blood for the magic to work.” The demon soothes, prying her hand from Natasha's grip. She turns and hands over the bloodstained quill, turning around to lay the contract flat over her shoulders.

“Now just sign on the dotted line and we can get this show over and done with so we can go have tea.” Darcy quips. 

Natasha huffs, but takes a second to skim over the contract before signing. She ignores an indignant shout from Steve about how “she doesn’t need to do this.” She's no lawyer, but the contract vaguely seems to say what the succubus laid out. Thanos stripped of power, dinner next week at 7, at least an hour, the whole 9 yards. Natasha scrawls a hasty signature. An expression halfway between an adoring grin and an evil smirk crosses Darcy’s face.

Suddenly there’s a burning stinging pain around Natasha wrist and she’s crying out, tears in her eyes. It subsides seconds later and when the spy looks down to inspect her wrist there’s loopy cursive scrawling arching around her limb. The words “Dinner at Astoria Pub, Brooklyn” and a shifting countdown timer to next Saturday are carved into skin. They shift and glow like smoldering embers, causing Natasha to swallow once in fear. She briefly wonders what she’s got herself into. 

The assassin’s eye dart up to Darcy’s, and she’s surprised when she sees a surprisingly soft look come over the demon’s face. Brain slowly catching up to the situation, Natasha is reminded of all the countless evenings and team dinner’s the assistant has sat in on. All the late night conversations over vodka and margaritas they’d had with Jane and Pepper. Or Shuri and Jane once the proverbial band broke up. A part of her wonders how any of them could have missed this. Wonders if it was all a lie and they’ve all been played by a heartless demon.

Wonders if she can trust that look on Darcy’s face. At once it’s both familiar and eerily strange. It’s a look often seen gracing the face of the woman when talk turned more sombre. A mix of understanding, compassion and so much sadness. Seeing it here, now, on the face of a demon princess makes her head hurt. Something so intimately familiar, so tender and warm, should not come out of features so warped and inhuman. 

“It’s just a formality, I needed something to bargain with or I couldn’t interfere Nat. It was just the first thought that came to mind. Have a cup of tea with me and then you can leave and never talk to me again. No fuss, no muss no expectations.” The demon, Darcy, whispers to her, something raw and vulnerable in her voice. Natasha doubts anybody else on the field can hear with the still lingering sound of fighting in the distance.

Darcy’s face shifts, going back to it’s stern, regal pose. She spins on her heels, facing Thanos once more. Her eyes explode with light, fire flaring out from them yet not singing or harming the woman. The demon snaps her fingers once more and the sound creates an echoing quake in the area. Suddenly something, some white aura or smoke is boiling and bubbling out of the mad titan. He roars and rages, but the smoke continues billowing. Thanos’s form thins becoming shorter and less broad. His muscles shrivel up and atrophy and he falls to the floor on his ass, legs weak as a newborn babe.

Darcy stands above him, fiery glare boring into his quivering form. She sneers and scoffs, pointing an accusing figure at the shrivelled titan. “Thanos, kiddo, you’ve been veeeeeery naughty.” She intones haughtily. Her hand flares out to the side and more black smoke billows out from her palm. “Normally, the council of hell is all about restorative justice and letting reincarnation take the wheel. However, given the severity of your crimes and likelihood of recidivism, it is our decision to end the threat. Permanently.” Darcy explains sedately, almost uncaringly. A judge passing sentence dispassionately.

The smoke billowing out of Darcy’s palm coalesces and hardens into a long thin single edged blade. It is curved wickedly like a sabre. It’s edge is made of some strange black metal, swirling with dark rainbows like an oil slick. Aside from a single wicked spike for a guard the blade is entirely without adornment or decoration. It’s hilt wrapped simply in black leather. 

The blade drops into Darcy’s palm and she whips it forward to press the point under Thanos’s jaw. “By this blade and the authority of the council I sentence your soul to void. To neither move to the next phase and reincarnate or ascend to the golden halls above. To become nothing. Do you have any last words?” The demon speaks, her words resounding.

“Fuck you.” The mad titan barks, swiping a hard in a lazy punch at hell’s princess. It misses by a foot. 

So Darialeutrix leans forward gently and the blade sinks into the flesh above his heart. It passes through the bone and muscle like a scalpel through butter. Thanos screams in pain and rage. His body thrashes and convulses, a fiery glow engulfing him. The glow intensifies more and more as the howls grow louder. It feels like hours, but mere seconds later there’s a bang and the energy built up in his body explodes outward in a flash of light. A blink later there is...nothing. No blood or corpse staining the grass. No charred remains of the explosion. Just blankness where the mad titan used to be. Natasha takes a deep gulping breath.

It’s over. 

They’ve won. 

Or at least, they were offered a solution to stem the bleeding and they took it. Whatever consequences come next can in no way be worse than half the universe dying. The spy leans back, a hysterical laugh coming out of her throat. 

It seems like it really was that easy for a second, but...

Then she remembers all those who died to bring them to this point. All the Wakandan’s dead on the field, the Asgardian race wiped out, vision dead, half the team broken and beaten down, more lost in space or with deep divisions pulling them apart. 

...and all she can do is sit there and cry silently, trying to hold it together, at least a little bit. 

There’s an awkward cough and everyone’s attention is brought back to Darcy, sword now dismissed and looking sheepish. “So, I guess we should probably get back to the base and have a bit of a talk about this then? Maybe make sure none of y’all bleed out.” The demon says with a shrug before snapping her fingers once more. A wash of black smoke explodes out from her, engulfing the surrounding Avengers.

When it disappears the group is assembled on the lawn outside of their base of operations in the lab. Medics and first responders are running around the field, checking survivors over and helping where they can. One stops by Wanda and starts to apply pressure as they roll her onto a stretcher and off to surgery. Everyone seems to take a deep breath as the tension unspools from the group, those assembled look around in disbelief. 

...and then Steve slaps a set of handcuffs on Darcy and starts dragging her off to an interrogation room. Because antagonizing the Princess of Hell who’s just saved the universe is obviously a good decision. 

Fucking idiot men, Natasha grumbles as she picks herself up to follow after them.


	2. Shall we dialog?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve try (and fail) to work it out. Darcy lets loose the dogs of hell in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot diggity daffodils, I was absolutely floored with the response to the first chapter of this story. I may have been kept up a bit late last night thinking through the next steps of the story a bit more. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kind words. Hopefully this and future chapters keep y'all happy and live up to what you were seeing in the story. Probably shouldn't expect any more to be posted at least for a few days though. Dungeons must be delved in WOW with my wife!
> 
> Also: Yeah, Steve's being kind of an asshole. He's had a long day though, what with the battle and Thanos ripping Bucky's arm off and all that jazz. Imho it's understandable to have a bit of a kneejerk reaction, especially when he thinks some new threat against his friends has appeared after all that. He's not going to stay a gigantic asshole though. He'll calm down pretty quick and apologize.

***************************************

Darcy found herself shoved unceremoniously into a nondescript interrogation room. Their were few decorations. A single metal table was bolted to the floor in front of her. Two supremely uncomfortable looking folding chairs were placed on either side. A single mirror that was totally not a one way mirror looked on from the wall to observe her. A camera was in the corner videotaping but otherwise the rest of the room was blank concrete. She heard vague argumentative shouting outside her room, but couldn’t really make out any of what it was. After an hour the demon princess sighed in boredom, shifting her cuffed hands on the desk in front of her. 

“Look, dudes. Not to be that stick in the mud, buuuut...I tooootally get how in an interrogation scene you need to give your bottom some time to sweat it out and freak themselves out. Good sexy fun that. Your taking too long though and now I’m just bored. Also, I’m totally down for handcuffs in the abstract, but maybe not right now. It would be nice to negotiate our boundaries before y’all have your wicked way with me too. So, can we hurry this along? I’ve got re-runs of parks and rec to marathon and they ain’t gonna watch themselves.” Darcy grumbled loudly with a put upon air. Her hands gestured wildly to the mirror to hurry up. 

Suddenly, as if those were the magic words the door burst open and a very irate Captain America growled his way into the room. His face was flushed from anger and he held a manilla folder in his hand. Steve slammed it down onto the table and photos of Darcy slid out. Glancing over she saw the label and realized it was her personal file. 

Darcy rolled her eyes internally. Of fucking course they’re going to get all bent out of shape over the silly little secret princess of another dimension thing. Typical. Just like big-bro Aba said to expect at the last council meeting. Despite how many fucking secrets all the Avengers had, they were always way touchy about anybody close to them having any of their own. The bunch of control freaks that they are. 

“Is any of this even fucking real? What’s your game here demon?” Steve barked out. 

Darcy snicked, then started legit giggling when Steve gave a angry huff in response. “Steve, of course it’s real? Don’t you see it in front of you? The folder is totally made out of real material and totally exists. Well, I suppose, that might actually depend on your ontological beliefs. Whether or not anything really exists or if we’re all just brains in jars. But that’s probably a deeper discussion than you were planning to have, so let’s set that aside for now.” She stage whispered conspiratorial. 

“This is not a joke Darcy, or whoever the hell you are. How long have you been infiltrating and manipulating the team?” The captain asked with a huff. His hand flipped open the folder showing shots of her talking to the team. Cooking for them. Bribing Jane to eat. You know, totally normally fucking shit. Darcy repressed an eye roll. 

“Well, I mean, I did occasionally have to use my witchy wiles to actually get Tony, Bruce and Jane to eat and sleep every once in awhile. But you know, is that really manipulation? Manipulation has such a pejorative connotation. Really, I was just trying to help my friends.” Darcy responded, leaning forwards in her chair on her arms. She smirked as her breasts were pressed up, practically poking her chin. Predictably, Steve’s gaze had trouble staying on her eyes and a different kind of flush warmed his cheeks. 

“S-so you admit to controlling the minds of the avengers?” Steve said, nervously stuttering over his words a bit. Darcy grinned internally as the power balance and atmosphere of the room shifted in her favor. Score another point for the girls. 

“Not at all.” She responded, giving a cheshire grin as he started in surprise. “Can you keep a secret?” She whispered conspiratorially to the man. Giggling maniacally when he just kept giving her the intense murder stare of a thousand disappointed bald eagles. 

“Jane and Tony would kiiiiiill me if they knew, so you gotta keep this quiet. I’d use my witchy wiles to teleport the coffee grounds out of the machines and the bags in the cabinets. I replaced them with decaf when the science team had been on a science bender for over a day and a half. They’d drop asleep within the hour and nobody’d know because none of the bags themselves weren’t tampered with at all.” The demon said mischievously. Her manic grin giving way to uproarious cackling when a muffled masculine yell of “you fucking evil bitch!” filtered through the observation mirror. 

Long moments of gasping laughter later she wiped an amused tear from her eye as her mirth subsided. “I take it Tony is back then?” She asked, happy to change the subject. Only, of course, Captain killjoy still has a stick up his ass. Without lube. 

“I’m asking the questions here. Now, I return to my original question. What was your game here? Did you manipulate Thanos into trying to cull the universe just to make yourself look good? To manipulate Agent Romanoff into sleeping with you?” He growled out, visibly holding himself back in his seat. 

Darcy eyebrows hit her forehead in surprise. “Steve, babs, your getting a little paranoid there. Calm your greek statuesque perfect tits and take a deep breath.” She chided, just to get his goat a bit.You know, because she’s always been a little shit at heart. 

“I will not fucking calm my fucking tits when my best friend is being manipulated by a fucking demon who is probably going to try and rape her you asshole.” He growled out aggressively, leaning into her space and close enough that his spittle was splattering her face.

And holy fuck, did that make Darcy’s gut clench with all. Of. The. Fucking. Feelings. Anger, guilt (because fuck, the way she asked Nat out was actually kinda fucked up of her, but fuck if her filter was working properly at the end of the goddamn world), shame, more anger, holy hell a lot of fucking anger. Like dark gods below she is so fucking pissed off right now she could smite her way through the fucking crust of the earth. The fucking nerve of Cap to just fucking assume that her asking Natasha to dinner means she’s going to assault one of the most amazing women the demon fucking knows. Goddamn speciesist pig. 

“Steve. It’s fucking dinner. We’ll grab fucking burgers or tea or coffee or whatever and hang out for an hour. After that she can go on her merry way if she wants. It’s totally, 100% up to her. I just needed something to bargain so the magic would actually work to kill Thanos. It was just the first thing on my mind because I was planning to ask her out after all this shit got figured out anyway.” She growled out angrily, slamming her hands down on the table.

“And you are totally going to refrain from using your…” He gave her a quick up and down leer with a hint of a sneer. Darcy’s cheeks heated a little bit at the transparent and dismissive ogling. Sure she may have a bomb ass body. Sure she may be a literal succubus who feeds on human sexual energy. Goddamn sure, she’s dressed right now in her formal work uniform (hey, being the lady of lust, if you show up to the office in anything BUT leather fetish wear, people look at you cross eyed), but show some fucking class asshole! “Magic abilities to influence her decision? Yeah fucking right.” He said with an angry huff. 

And holy fucking hell did that piss the demon off even fucking more. The fucking nerve of him to just fucking assume that Nat will just be fucking helpless and empty headed before her. Ugh. So many fucking shades of centuries of misogyny rearing their ugly head there. She shakes her head briefly to clear her head. Aba was totally right about how hard it would be to make headway against a thousand years of winged propaganda. She takes a few deep breaths to try and calm the raging storm within her. Anger and recrimination will not help her now. 

“Look, Steve. I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and made some bad assumptions. Lets try the dialog method to work through some of these interpersonal issues. We mostly take turns using I statements about our feelings and try to work towards common understanding and empathy. I’ll start. I feel as if I’m being blamed for things that were not within my control. That a whole series of incorrect assumptions about me are being made that are very pejorative and demeaning. I would like to discuss these assumptions calmly and work to dispel them. Now, your turn.” Darcy says quietly, trying to be as honest and forthright as possible. Her handcuffs clink as she extends her hand to him in a metaphorical olive branch.

“This is not a fucking joke. You will answer my goddamn questions! I will do anything I need to in order to protect my friends.” Steve shouted, his face taking on a red hue.Darcy leaned back, showing her palms in submission.

“Dude, you suck at the dialog method. The rule is, no personal attacks. Fuck, I just did one, didn’t I. Okay, let's forget this last sentence ever happened and start again. Now, tell me more calmly how you feel.” Darcy asked, a shaky smirk on her face.  
Something seemed to just snap in Steve. Perhaps her teasing had gone too far, stretched his (always hair trigger) temper too far. When she thinks about it later, she does acknowledge that hell hasn’t had much actual contact with Earth in generations. So, of course it’s understandable to jump to certain assumptions based on stereotypes in the absence of other data. Even if it’s not okay to do that. Like, at all. In the moment though she’s just fucking pissed as he leans forward and slaps her across the cheek, hard. The sound echoed throughout the room as Darcy sat in stunned disbelief and pain.

Steve looked momentarily taken aback and surprised by his own actions when she spat out a gob of blood and spit onto the table. Anger broiled in Darcy and her glare was full of repressed rage. Yeah, do we not fucking bleed, asshole she grumbles internally. Darcy clenches her hands and took a moment to breath and think. The more she thought about it the more angry she felt. Dimly, she realized that whatever is going on is now officially beyond her ability to negotiate. The anger was visceral enough that her magic started churning within her, ready to react, to strike out and protect her. Her eyes started taking on an orange fiery glow. 

Rather than lash out, she tamped her rage down. Instead letting a vicious smirk cross her features. “Well, I guess you’ve made your opinion clear. Time to let loose the dogs of hell!” She said with a giggle as she snapped her fingers. Twin pillars of smoke erupted out of the ground behind her as shouts of alarm sounded outside the room. A burly guard with a rifle burst into the room, firing at her. Only, by the time the the bullet ripped through the chair where she was sitting Darcy was no more. She’d momentarily evaporated into her smoke form and moved to stand between the pillars of smoke. Her handcuffs now lay unused where she was before by the table.

Steve yelled an order to hold your fire as the smoke solidified into two new humanoid forms. A tense standoff began only to be cut through by the snarky voice of Darcy. “So, Steviekins. I tried to have a nice friendly chat and clear up the misunderstandings between us amicably. Clearly, that is not working and we aren’t getting anything productive done. So, now it’s time for you to meet my lawyers, the dogs of hell.” Darcy said with a shit-eating grin. Steve’s mouth hung open like a fish, absolutely flabbergasted. Asshole probably expected her to summon a legion of imps or something. 

“This is Cerberus.” She said, pointing to the pretty average sized man on the right. He was standing in an immaculately cut suit with a bright red tie. His skin was dark, almost ash like. A mane of wild black hair curled messily out of his head. His eyes were piercingly yellow. When he grinned and waved at Steve the captain boggled as he noticed visible fangs out of a pronounced, almost muzzle like mouth.

“And this, is Fenrir.” She said, pointing to the other man, whose hulking muscles practically popped out of his suit. He looked similar to the other man only, well, bigger and more brunette than black haired. Steve’s gaze flit between them, seemingly unsure who was the bigger threat. Fenrir was classically stronger and more imposing, but Cerberus just had a...viciousness about him that tended to cause his opposing side (cough cough his victims cough cough) to piss themselves in fear. 

“Boys. Please sue for the standard things. Emotional damage, discrimination ect, but feel free to drop the case if he legitimately apologizes. We’ve all had a trying day. I’m sure I can understand how one’s temper might get away from oneself. If there is still time today, would you please speak to the team about the plan to open up an embassy for Hell on Earth? Draw up some initial negotiations according to the documents sent over by the council.” The demon princess ordered. 

“Our pleasure Mistress.” The men chorused, their grins turning mischievous as they turned to face the Captain with heat in their eyes. He gulped in fear. 

“Aaaaand with that, Momma’s gonna go get herself a bottle of tequila, watch some TV and get crunked. Toodles!” Darcy joked with a barked laugh as she sauntered out of the room. The guard with the gun tried to put a hand on her to stop her retreat, but he merely fell through her as she briefly turned to smoke and kept walking. 

Damn, it felt good to be a princess sometimes.


	3. Angry Day Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky kicks Steve's ass. Darcy, Jane and Bucky get drunk as skunks and the backstory train enters the station.

******************************************

When something like consciousness finally returned to Bucky, it’s with a painful soreness all over his body. Keeping his eyes closed for a second he focused on just feeling his body. Nothing felt massively out of place, just sore and painful. A quick wiggle of toes and fingers confirmed everything seemed to be more or less working. 

...except his metal arm felt strangely numb. Barely even there except for some strange wispy notion of something not being there which should be. Dimly, he realized Thanos...got rid of it. Some part of him felt he should be pretty concerned about that, but frankly he didn’t really care about that at the moment. Couldn’t really process those feelings, think about what that meant. His memories of the fight with Thanos and its aftermath were slowly returning to him fuzzy and uncertain. Frankly all he knew is that he was going to thank his lucky stars he was still alive and kicking.

...and that they’d won, somehow. Something to do with...Darcy maybe? His brain seemed tugged in two directions. Visions of a black haired woman with fiery highlights and a fucking horn out of her forehead warred with the visions of his friend. The brunette girl with luscious lips and a (worryingly) perfect bratty cackle. The woman who’d snuggle with him and watch cheesy romance movies. Who’d held him as he’d cried the first time he and Steve had a stupid fight after they got back together. The two visions in his brain both seemed to be labeled “Darcy” but they just didn’t seem to fit together. 

...Could they?

With a groan he opened his eyes to the stinging bright light of the Wakandan med bay. Immediately he was beset by a pair of puffed up mother hens. Talia pressed a glass of water into his flesh hand while Steve set himself to propping his pillows up so he could drink more comfortably. Grumbling, he gave them both a glowering glare to back off as his brain stopped spinning in confusion. 

“What happened? Did we get him?” Bucky asked hoarsely between tentative sips of water. 

A strange hesitant look passed between the pair. Something...awkward in Steve’s expression and a look of carefully contained annoyance in Talia’s. Bucky very quickly noticed that Steve was sporting a black eye that hadn’t been there the last time he remembered being conscious. The medics were carrying him on a stretcher and Steve was wandering off somewhere angrily. Talia’s gaze flicked briefly to it and the barest flash of satisfaction came over her face. Bucky made the connection with a sigh.

“What’d the punk fuck up Talia?” He joked with a long suffering smile. 

Steve gave an indignant snort, pulling attention back to him. “Yeah, we got him Buck. But...the damage to your arm, the Doctors couldn’t repair it easily. They decided to just remove it for now so you don’t have any pain while they make a replacement.” He explained, shuffling awkwardly. 

“Okay. That’s...a thing. That I will deal with later. Not what I asked though punk. What got Talia to give you that black eye Stevie?” The spy returned with a grumble, giving Steve a harsh glare. 

Steve was just sucking in a breath to respond back when Talia gave him a hard elbow to the ribs. The soldier whimpered, but thankfully shut up for a second. 

“What Cap means to say is that we all got our collective asses handed to us by Thanos and we were totally fucked...until Darcy pulled us all out of the fire.” The redhead practically hissed giving Steve some major side-eye. 

“Fuck. So that whole, Darcy’s a demon thing isn’t just a hallucination cause I’m on some really good drugs?” Bucky said with a groan, rubbing his forehead to release some tension. 

“Nope.” Said Natasha, popping the p. “-and Rogers had the bright idea to throw her in an interrogation cell. Then verbally berate and physically assault her during questioning, that apparently he felt only he was qualified to do. Hence the black eye.” The spy finished explaining with a shrug.

Steve had the good graces to at least look a little chastised at that. “Fuck, Stevie, what the hell?” The brunette shouted, anger boiling up in him.

“Buck, please, you don’t understand, you can’t trust a-” Steve responded with heat in his voice. Bucky cut him off with a zip it motion. 

“So make me understand punk. Better yet, Talia, get me the recording of the interrogation so I can see for myself.” He grumbled, thrusting his hand out in a grabby gesture. A few seconds later the redhead slid a tablet into it and queued up the video. 

As it played Steve kept shrinking back to the corner of the room, looking increasingly worried as he heard his words played back to him. Bucky for his part was practically growling as his fingers clenched hard around the device. If the tablet hadn’t been made to Wakandan standards the super soldier probably would have snapped it right in half towards the end of the video. Though, a brief conflicted grin did spread his lips after Darcy handed Steve his ass and sauntered out of the room.

She’s still the same old sassy bitch after all. That, more than anything helped hammer home how utterly and completely in the fucking wrong Steve was. 

Taking a few deep breaths to control his temper Bucky slowly turned his glare on his lover and fellow super soldier. “Well punk. Anything to say for yourself?” He growled out. 

Steve shuffled awkwardly like a kid sent to the principal's office. His reply was muffled, almost whispered. “I just...I had to be sure. I couldn’t let her fuck with either of your heads.”

Bucky’s glare softened, just a bit at that, though he was still tense and angry. “And this had absolutely nothing to do with me mentioning how much I loved cuddling and watching movies with Darce last week? How I might want to take her out to an old fashioned drive in sometime?” He asked with a challenging smirk on his face.

Steve’s cheeks blushed deep red at that and he hunched in on himself. He looked increasingly uncomfortable as the big man unsuccessfully tried to make himself disappear into the floor. 

“I, uh, I mean. You can’t trust...all the stories talk about how manipulative they are, how tempting. She could be… you know, c-controlling you? Pushing you to sin?” The burly blond man stammered out.

“Christ Stevie, if we believed everything we heard in Church you and I would not be fucking each other’s brains out every other evening. Especially not while Talia and I are doing the whole poly out of wedlock thing as well. Take it with a grain of fucking salt and think before you goddamn act.” Bucky cursed, with a groan. 

“Look, my therapist says I’m basically the poster child for fucking trust issues. We all know that. But even I fucking know the fucking phrases ‘trust but verify’ and ‘benefit of the doubt’ apply here. We may be in new territory and have some fucking concerns but don’t fly off the fucking handle!” The brunette grumbled angrily, choosing his words as carefully as possible. 

“Look, sorry…I fucked up. Bad. I’m sorry Buck.” Steve responded quietly with a frown and a bit of a pout. Bucky’s heart was torn between cooing at the adorable sad puppy eyes and slapping him upside the head. After a long stare to assure himself of how very contrite his boyfriend was he nodded.

“Sorry is a start, but I’m not the one you gotta apologize to.” Bucky said, pulling himself out of bed to his feet. Briefly he fiddled around with the tablet, opening up the note taking program. 

“Now, I’ve known since we were kids your a stupid punk who never learns his lesson getting hit. So, we’re doing this differently. You’re going to write out ‘I will think before I act like a stupid punk’ on this three hundred times. While you’re doing this you will be standing in that corner, not moving, speaking, playing angry birds or doing anything but thinking about what you’ve done wrong for at least the next hour. No cheating or copy pasting or I will find a fucking whiteboard and make you write your lines in the fucking cafeteria. Capisce?” Bucky explained harshly, pressing the tablet into Steve’s hands. 

The big overgrown baby groaned as his pout intensified. Talia gave Bucky a sly smirk and an impressed wink even as she gave Steve a sharp elbow to quiet his complaints. The man yelped and rubbed his side but bit his tongue to keep quiet. Slowly Bucky let out a big world-weary sigh as he turned towards the door. 

“Talia, keep an eye on him and make sure the punk follows his rules. I’m going to go find Darce and see if we can fix this.” The assassin said with resignation. Talia nodded seriously in response.

***************************************  
By the time Bucky made it across the compound to the entrance to Darcy’s room a tense arguing crowd had formed outside her door. A series of uniformed SHIELD agents and Dora Milaje formed a human barricade to keep anyone from approaching the door. Maria Hill was arguing loudly with a distressed Jane Foster, trying (unsuccessfully) to convince her against trying to go an see her friend/intern/platonic life partner from hell. Thor looked on awkwardly, sad puppy look firmly in place, clearly wanting to intercede but refraining from getting in his Ex’s space. 

All that more or less fell to the wayside though as Bucky realized there were also a pair of creatures? Demons? Guards? Standing on either side of Darcy’s door, glowering at the assembled humans. The creatures were utterly alien. They were covered in reddish brown fur and flowing leather armor. Twin black horns sprouted from their heads through long black hair pulled back in neat ponytails. What really grabbed the eyes though was the strange, goat like legs and hooves they had.

Oh, and the long sickle like obsidian swords they clasped in their right hands. Large black tower shields emblazoned with a crimson eye completed the ensemble, looking for all the world like elite royal guards. A faint echo of Bucky’s old programming pushed awake at the back of his mind. Threat level: Unknown, likely high. Treat with utmost caution. The wicked sneer they would occasionally send the SHIELD agents in particular didn’t help set Bucky at ease either. 

Still though, it’s not like anything was going to get done if everyone just stood out here comparing dick sizes. So, the brunette slipped through the line (and ignored Maria’s surprised shout behind him) to stand in front of the guards. He made direct eye contact, staring them down without a hint of weakness in his stance or posture. 

“I would like to talk to Darcy.” He said neutrally, braving the intensifying gaze of the demons. A hush fell in the hallway as the humans waited to see how the request might be received. 

“Princess Darcialeutrix has indicated she has important business to complete and is not to be disturbed.” The right guard huffed, clearly unamused. His voice was gravelly sounding almost like a rumble of rocks down a mountain. It only further put Bucky’s hackles up. 

“Will you tell her it’s James Barnes here to see her, and Jane Foster if she’ll allow it?” Bucky pressed, trying to find how far he can push the demons before they respond violently. 

A look of annoyance passed over the guards face and Bucky tensed, prepared for a possible attack. In response the guard clutched his sword more tightly, shifting his posture to puff out his chest. The tense standoff only escalated from there, the pair no doubt being seconds away from a more physical altercation. Only, the staredown was interrupted by an muffled yet exasperated voice from the other side of the door. 

“Oh, just let him and Jane through already things 1 and 2. You can have you little pissing contest tomorrow. I need to talk to them at some point anyway.” The voice, presumably Darcy, shouted from the other side of the door. With a growl the demons stepped aside, holding the door open. 

Bucky kept staring them down, looking for any hint of threat or menace. Any possibility they would attack. Only moving when a blur of thin limbs and brown hair barreled past him as Jane slipped into the apartment unmolested. 

Entering the apartment they found Darcy in her living room, sat on her couch and hunched over her coffee table. A mess of blank white papers were spread out in front of her, while the TV softly played some reality TV show or other. The demon had a glass of tequila in hand and a large bottle, a quarter empty already sat ready on the table.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of her. Everything hazy in his memories suddenly becoming all too real and vivid. She’d changed out of the skimpy leather number she had on before. Now back to more usual and expected Darcy clothing. Mostly just wearing a comfy sweater and old sweatpants. She’s wearing her big hipster glasses again (though he has no idea if she actually needs them), as well as a knit beanie. 

It’s certainly cute, but that’s not what sets Bucky aback. Rather, it’s the contrast between her simple unassuming clothes and her new, more demonic appearance. The smoldering red streaks in her hair set off a stark contrast to the plain sweater. He thinks it’s the imposing white horn coming out her forehead and those devilishly intelligent golden eyes boring into him and Jane. There’s something...unsettling about seeing his friend in this new form (well presumably in her true one) . It seems to connect something for him though, some missing piece. Seeing her in a new more honest light and starting some warm feeling in his stomach.

...and it’s also pretty damn attractive if Bucky’s at all honest with himself. The feelings in his gut only intensify when the woman gives him a shy little smile. “Hi.” Darcy says awkwardly with an awkward wave. Tension curls in the demons shoulders as she waits for either of the pair to actually respond. 

Jane’s the first to actually get her feet under her though. “Hi!!!!!!! That’s what you’ve got!???! Darcy, I can’t even fucking believe you!! Kicking me out of the van as we evacuate and then fucking driving straight towards the fight?! I was worried sick and had no idea what was going on till hours later?! How could you?! And don’t even get me fucking started on the whole demon thing. Agggggh.” The tiny astrophysicist practically shrieks angrily. Bucky and Darcy both wince, the demon shrinking back into her seat on the couch. 

“Janey, I’m so sorry. There wasn’t time. I didn’t really have a choice. I wasn’t allowed to tell you and it was an absolute last resort.” Darcy said with a whine, showing her palms and backing away slightly. Her eyes turning into the very definition of sad and kicked puppy. 

Jane walked up to imposingly tower over Darcy (well, as much as she could given how short the woman was). “Oh don’t get me wrong missy. I’m very glad you saved the goddamn universe. I live here. Plus, I totally imagine there was some pact of secrecy or whatever. I’m just mad at the world. And you, a little bit I guess. Feelings are dumb and irrational.” Jane grumbled at Darcy. The tiny ball of rage calling herself an astrophysicist stabbed a nail into Darcy’s chest to accentuate her point as she chided her friend.

Darcy looked a bit sheepish, but a dawning look of hope seemed to come over her features. “Still friends?” The woman squeaked timidly. Something in Bucky’s heart seemed to clench as he took in the look of vulnerable desperation on Darcy’s features. 

“Assuming you explain how and why you’ve been able to teleport this entire time. Seriously, I’ve been working on this shit for goddamn years and you’ve been able to do it the entire time? What the fuck!” Jane squaked in indignant amusement. 

Darcy giggled as a beaming grin split her face. Her entire expression lighting up with happiness. “Yes boss-lady. Very few demons actually care about science and shit, so it’s been mostly uninvestigated. I’ll send over some of the preliminary papers I’ve helped get made though. I think it’s more quantum spooky action at a distance than Einstein-Rosen bridge though. So it’s more chemistry than astrophysics.“ Darcy explained with a bit of a shrug. Jane for her part smiled like the cat that got the cream, rubbing her hands together excitedly. 

Darcy shot them both a mischievous look a few seconds later, sitting back and sipping her tequila. “So, before the science! bender commences, how about joining me for some ‘we just saved the universe’ celebratory shots?” Darcy asked fondly, already snapping her fingers to teleport two more glasses to the coffee table. Jane and Bucky both took places on the sofa either side of her. Darcy didn’t even wait for the pair to agree before pouring each of them double servings from her bottle of booze. 

Only...something, some look passed over her features for a split second and it set all of Bucky’s instincts on edge. There was something cracked and...fearful in her expression and his brain raced to try and figure out what it was. He took in the scene around him, noting the oddly blank papers laid out as if Darcy was reading them...and the TV. He cursed under his breath as he realized it was playing “my big fat gypsy wedding.” Darcy had made a point of saying such shows were only on her “I don’t want to think about my problems” list. 

“Darce...are we celebrating here or commiserating? What’s with the reality TV and all the blank paperwork?” He asked blandly, trying not to turn this into an interrogation. 

Darcy cursed under her breath (his enhanced hearing picked up what sounded like ‘fucking spysassins’), passing a hand through her hair nervously. The tension in the room racketed back up as Darcy took a few deep breaths. The woman clearly thinking about how much, if anything she should say. Eventually she looked up with a shaky crooked grin. 

“A little bit of both maybe? It depends what messages I get in the next five minutes.” Darcy whispered, staring off into the distance. Some deep instinct warned Bucky that something was very wrong, if he could just figure out what it was. 

Awkward silence reigned, only interrupted by Darcy taking a big slurping sip of tequila from her glass. Eventually, in a flash of dark smoke one of the satyr like creatures from the door appeared in the middle of the apartment. Bucky had to force back his initial reaction to attack the threat, noting the unsurprised look on Darcy’s face.

“Mistress, the council sends word!” The creature shouted excitedly, handing the woman another blank piece of paper before teleporting away again. Darcy accepted it with grace and started staring at it with an intent look of concentration. Her expression became more and more closed off and dark, and Bucky’s hackles started to raise. 

“Darce? What’s with the paper?” Bucky asked, feeling unsettled.

“Magically encoded communications from hell. If you don’t have the proper clearance level it just shows as a blank piece of paper.” Darcy said distracted as she kept reading. “Fuck! Fucking goddamn winged corkscrew dicked buggering assholes!” Darcy suddenly cursed, the paper bursting into flames in her hands. 

Jane and Bucky shared a wary look for a second. “Darcy, what's wrong?’ Asked Jane plaintively. 

Darcy stared off at the wall for a second, grumbling and breathing deeply. “Well, to answer your earlier question. Were celebrating personally but commiserating for the world.” The demon explained before throwing back her drink and pausing to pour another. Eventually she continued as Jane and Bucky just gave her inquisitive looks to explain further. 

A hand fisted in Darcy’s hair, and she rubbed her forehead harshly with the other. “So, uh...let's just say, saving the universe like that has some...complications. The letter I just got confirmed that shit’s going to get very real in a week or two.” Darcy said, grumbling as a look of barely restrained fear came over her features. 

“Darce, sweetheart, you gotta give us more than that if you want us to help. What sort of consequences, why? What do you need?” Bucky asked imploringly. Darcy still looked hesitant, but also like she desperately wanted to reach out so Bucky raised his arm to give her a gentle hug. 

Darcy was silent for several long moments, her breath speeding up. Bucky could easily feel the racing of her heart under his fingertips. Truly worried now he waited patiently as she started to explain.

“So...story time I guess? A lot of the bible is, well, not true exactly, but one possible interpretation of events. Well, and a whole lot of metaphor and all of it is Heaven’s very, very biased viewpoint and a lot is flat out propaganda and, fucking fuck fuck. I’m trying for a neutral explanation here. Sorry.” Darcy started, grumbling as her steam broke down. 

“Anywho, so, Noah’s flood. Humanity is sinning too much so gods all BLEEEEGH. Kids, I am disappoint, and he shakes the etch-a-sketch like a fucking toddler and drowns everybody. Only, it was more about, um, what Hell was doing at the time?” The demon explains, looking sheepish and awkward, like she’s waiting for either of them to yell at her. They give her space, so eventually she continues.

“Well, see...my mom...she was a bit of a rabble rouser I guess? She proposed a bunch of policy changes to how hell dealt with sinners. Like the whole torture them forever thing doesn’t really do anything to make the world better. People still get angry and do stupid shit not thinking about the consequences. She proposed that souls that show genuine remorse and work to do better should get a chance at redemption and be reincarnated. All on a very case by case basis of course. How bad was the crime? How likely are they to do it again? Etc etc.” Darcy finishes explaining, now looking entirely lost and a bit forlorn. Something in Bucky just hurts at the sight. 

“So heaven did what? Drown the earth?” Bucky asks, his voice hoarse and full of emotion.

Darcy snorted without any real humour. “That’s where you get into the metaphorical shit Buckster. They started a war. Demanded new management of hell as they went around killing the reincarnated souls to send them back for ‘proper disposal’. It was a figurative flood Buckster, figurative. Long story short, war goes on for a few generations. Most of the earth is dead so Hell offers a trade. My mom for a truce. Heaven agreed and for the last thousand years the earth has basically been the subject of an invisible mexican standoff.” Darcy finished explaining with a grimace.

Jane looks on with shock and horror etched into her face. “What happened to her Darce?” The woman prods hesitantly. 

Darcy grins sadly and knocks back and the rest of her glass of tequila, immediately pouring another and draining most of that too. Despite her rosy cheeks, exaggerated spluttering and knowing smirk on her lips Darcy just looks lost, completely and utterly. Bucky hugs her tighter even as she speaks, her voice a harsh croak.

“Tortured, eventually crucified as an example and threat to the other leaders of hell. It didn’t work. Her ideas are still the basis of all of modern hell’s sentencing practices. Even more so now, since psychological counselling became a thing.” Darcy downs the rest of the second glass of tequila, not so subtly covering a whimper as she coughs from the alcohol. 

“All this to say then, that me stopping Thanos violated key terms of that truce. Which is why I waited until there was no other choice and kept it a secret this whole time. The note I got was the results of us trying to negotiate with the agents of heaven. I was offered as a sacrifice...the offer was rejected, so now we're at war again I guess.” Darcy finishes explaining with a shrug, even as her eyes flit between Jane and Bucky, seemingly asking for them to say something, anything. 

And honestly, what can you even really say to that? I’m sorry is just an empty platitude and I understand is patently a lie, same with ‘it’s going to be okay’. Bucky and Jane both settle for just hugging Darcy tightly as the woman’s breath hitches and tears drip down her cheeks. The apartment is still and quiet beyond Darcy’s suppressed sobs and Jane cooing at her as reassuringly as she can. 

5 minutes go by, then 10, then 30 without anyone speaking or moving beyond the blaring of the TV. Eventually though the atmosphere calms down and becomes less charged. Drinks are passed around copiously and the hugs turn into a more fond cuddle than panicked huddle. Jane is once again the first to get her feet under her and speak once more. 

“Wait...if your Mom died around Noah’s flood...how old are you Darcy?” The scientist asks fondly, slurring her words just slightly.

And then Darcy is cackling once more, long and relieved and amused and the world seems just a bit brighter again.


	4. Midnight Earl Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finds Darcy on the roof for tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Work's been crazy, but I'm still writing here and there. You know, when not stressing over my thesis and shit. Hope you enjoy!

*******************************************************  
“Overprotective _men_ ”, Natasha huffed with a derisive grunt as she wandered the hallways of the Wakandan base.

For four days FOUR! Practically the entire masculine group of the avengers had conspired to keep her away from Darcy’s room. Despite Steve apologizing (briefly, from the door of Darcy’s apartment since she refused to let him in) he’d refused to let up on the security. A cordon of guards surrounded every entrance into the demon’s apartment (including the damn vents as if she were Clint). She could have easily fought her way past and disabled the guard, but she honestly wanted to keep the casualties to a minimum.

...but she was apparently too “valuable” to the team and they were just “concerned” and “cautious” about Darcy being in the same room as Natasha. As if she was some helpless naive maiden too stupid to be cautious about a new player in the game. Fuck, she was still silently fuming about that bullshit.

Though, given the satisfying terrified squeal of the baby agent she just passed, the spy assumed her mood must be at least playing on her face. She had, in fact, gotten more complacent and let herself relax her expressions more during the down time between missions. It was less necessary now that she didn’t HAVE to have a plan to kill everyone she meets if it ever became necessary (she still does, they’re just more improvisational and casually defined now).

Amazingly enough, it turned out that being annoying mother hen’s is what ultimately started to bring the team back together again. Stark and co had returned from their jaunty trip to outer space just a day ago. They’d immediately agreed that demons from hell needed to be at least watched and monitored “for the good of the team.” It only took a few minutes of intensely awkward halted conversation for Steve and Tony to admit they missed working together and wanted to fix things. Frankly, Natasha thought she should be surprised they were as adult about the whole breakup as they were.

...but really, the team had always came together in a big way whenever a member was threatened (whether that threat is real or perceived is a separate point entirely). So, of course a possible threat to their own would be what got them to bury the hatchet. Unfortunately though, Tony still had a look on his face like he stepped in dog shit everytime he accidentally walked into a room James was in.

Thus, in the spirit of making nice and not causing undue harm, Natasha had so far restrained herself from breaking into Darcy’s apartment and confronting the woman. Frankly, she didn’t know Darcy amazing well. Beside being friendly when Bucky dragged her into team movie nights they just didn’t have a lot of contact. She’d given her the same standard background check as everyone else connected to the team, but it’s not like “demon princess” would show up on a criminal history report. The spy did know a few things about her. Most particularly she knew what Darcy does when she’s stressed or worried. The assistant had practically fallen to pieces herself when she was trying to keep Jane together after the breakup with Thor.

So really, all the guard duty was absolutely pointless. It was just a matter of time and patience for the spy to find Darcy on the roof of the building, silently staring off into the night sky. The demon was in her true form, horn and flaming hair proudly displayed. Though she was wearing nothing more than fuzzy red flannel pajamas as she lay back on the concrete. The effect was surprisingly cute, a bit like the legions of photo’s of pit bulls in tutu’s and hats on the internet.

Natasha let herself get lost in observing the demon princess, though she was careful to stay out of eyeshot and be absolutely silent. Her eyes trailed over her silky smoldering hair, the steady rise and fall of her ample chest, and oh yes, the delicious curve of the woman’s calves when she propped a foot up on a ledge and let her pants slide downwards. The cuff stopped just above Darcy’s knee. The pose threatening and promising in equal measure the hidden promise of the woman’s ample thighs. Which, holy shit, Natasha thought, it was absolutely not fair for a woman who worked out as little as Darcy to have thighs like she did.

Natasha had always had a bit of a thing about shapely legs, not that she’d ever admit it (Clint probably could guess based on the patterns in her string of hookups with terrified baby agents, but the man was retired and good at keeping secrets so she wasn’t worried). Goddamn though, the spy absolutely wanted to just _bite_ into that soft porcelain skin. She desperately wanted to cover those lovely muscles in bruising marks and make the woman squeal.

Natasha’s body heated up more and more as Darcy slowly, carefully, moved the other leg up. The pants on that leg fell away too as Darcy gently used a toe to massage and knead the shapely muscles. The spy forced herself to bite back a groan when a positively debauched moan of pleasure came from the woman as she continued her massage. Minutes ticked by, Natasha’s gaze never wavering as the demon stretched provocatively. Eventually though, Natasha’s attention was snapped away from the fluttering warmth in her belly by a saucy voice shouted over a shoulder.

“Hey, take a girl to dinner before you go all intense sex stare would ya? Window shopping is fun, but ya gotta actually go in the store to get what you want Nat.” Darcy said with a giggle, flashing a wink as she twisted to look directly at Natasha from her place on the ground.

The spy had to hold back her look of utter surprise at being caught out. Not only was she caught surveilling a potential target, but also transparently and uncomfortably objectifying a friend. Embarrassment and shame warred within her at equal measure. Still though, years of abuse and training as a spy had its ‘perks’ and pushing away uncomfortable emotions was one of them.

With nary a flicker of discomfort on her face Natasha sauntered up to stand over Darcy. The spy crossed her arms under her breasts, schooling her face to unnerving nonchalance. Though, a hint of a smirk did curve the corners of her lips as she watched Darcy’s irises dilate and dart towards her cleavage. She chose to remain silent, knowing people tended to try and fill awkward silences and provide more information than they intended to.

“Sorry, uh, didn’t mean to surprise you. Just, uh, demons dude, we have a bit better sense of smell than humans. Or, maybe not really scent in the classic sense, but we do get a distinct impression whenever people feel strong emotions.” Darcy explained sheepishly, looking entirely awkward under Natasha’s increasing glare. “Particularly... lust. So, you know. It’s uh, hard not to...notice that stuff. Please don’t be mad.” Darcy explained looking askance to Natasha.

“Sounds useful.” Natasha replied coolly, letting the demon stew and shift around uncomfortably.

“Soooooo…. It seems like you found a way around yonder anxious border collies protecting what they see as their herd?” The woman offered a bit awkwardly with a shrug as she stood up and dusted her pants off.

The redhead’s mask finally cracked at that and she snorted in amusement, the image certainly seeming apt. “Oh, it was never about finding a way around them. It was just about waiting for an approach that wouldn’t result in me having to drug the baby agents. They’re so terrified of me already, it would be a shame if I pushed them into pissing themselves when I train them in the gym. It’s always hard to get that urine smell out of gym mats.” Natasha explained with a grin at Darcy’s answering chortle.

Seemingly casually, Natasha shifted on the balls of her feet. The movement jostled her cleavage a bit and the spy didn’t miss the blush creeping up the demon’s neck as her eyes darted down and away for a second. The redhead purred internally at that, taking a certain relish from embarrassing a literal succubus quite so well. Plus, it gave her leverage and power in the situation, which was entirely to her benefit and honestly relieving.

Nat had been a little hesitant before approaching the woman about how the exchange would go. Sure, Steve had been an absolute dickhead, but he raised some real concerns. The team had no information to work with and had no idea what capabilities the demon’s had. Beyond what she’d already showed (which was terrifying enough, she can’t imagine how much her old handlers would have paid to get her hands on even one of the teleporters) there was a serious information imbalance that made the spy uncomfortable.

Darcy was close to several members of the team. She knew them intimately, their likes, dislikes, triggers and personalities. Moreover, her opinion _mattered_ and people cared about her. It wouldn’t be hard for a skilled operative to use even just that to manipulate the team to a variety of ends. While they on the other hand knew next to nothing about her abilities, motivations, connections or resources. Sure, Bucky had given them some basic intel from his chat with her, but it was far from enough.

...and Natasha was most definitely a person who did not deal well with a lack of control or intel. The spy fully intended to level the playing field as much as possible.

Natasha cursed under breath as she was startled out of her reverie by the demon doing a little awkward shuffle in front of her.

“So, uh… I was actually just about to have some tea while I relax out here. Do you maybe want to grab a seat and have a cup with me?” Asked the demon, her face filled with uncertainty even as she snapped her fingers. Half a second later set of tacky lawn chairs appeared in a puff of smoke behind her as well as a bland wooden coffee table.

Nodding, the spy gracefully slid into the chair opposite the princess. She chuckled with amusement (both feigned and genuine, it was adorable and showing connection was an effective way to establish rapport for information gathering) as the woman childishly propped her bare feet on the coffee table.

“So, where’s this tea you speak-” The redhead started to ask even as one of Darcy’s Satyr like guardians appeared in a well timed poof of smoke. This time however, the creature appeared in formal wear. He was clad in a crisply pressed black suit, tails and all. He carried a tray with a full tea set (including antique pot, a teacup, sugar and cream) in one hand and a tower like set of connected plates topped with various baked sundries in the other. With surprising grace he set the items on the coffee table and gave Darcy and Natasha quick bows.

“Minion, another cup for my lovely company this fine evening.” Darcy ordered, smiling and thanking the satyr warmly when he returned seconds later. The look on the servants face was adoringly happy at the compliment. He bowed more deeply and enthusiastically with a hasty “My pleasure Mistress” before disappearing once more.

Natasha quirked an amused brow at Darcy. “Minion?” She asked, letting the question hang.

Darcy giggled, looking surprised and entirely amused. “What, it’s not like I gotta buck every stereotype out there. What’s a princess of hell without a few minions. And yes I fully admit the power dynamics of such a stratified society are a little fucked up, but at the same time I can tell you to fuck off for being a judgemental imperialist who doesn’t have enough context to understand the sociopolitical context of hell.” The demon ranted, a crooked grin belying the amusement beneath her bluster.

Natasha chuckled with an amused shake of her head as she bent to pour two cups of tea. Both women quickly grabbed their cups and inhaled deeply of the rich scent. Natasha took a careful sip, only to moan wantonly as the heavenly liquid spilled over her taste buds and slammed into the pleasure centers of her brain. The tea was perfectly steeped, bitter, but not too much, and deliciously cut by just the right amount of citrus. A fresh lemon wedge over the edge brightened the flavor just that little bit extra. The temperature was also absolutely perfect, avoiding the all too common sin of burning the delicate loose leaves, keeping every ounce of flavor.

Distracted, the spy blushed a deep crimson when she caught Darcy giving her a shit eating grin. The demon’s eyes were dilated, just a bit more than normal and the woman licked her lips nervously. “I take it you find the tea at least moderately acceptable then?” Darcy asked, voice full of fond amusement.

“Passable as best, but it’ll have to do.” The redhead responded drly, glaring at Darcy when the woman started chortling at her. Her resolve only lasted a moment before she too was chuckling. “Where did you get the blend?” Natasha asked as the mirth subsided and the quiet of the night started to settle back in.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Darcy joked back, shooting the spy a set of cheesy finger guns.

“Vee haff VAYS of making yu tok!” The spy deadpanned back in the most ludicrously exaggerated german accent she could muster. She quirked a brow dangerously to accentuate her point which had the demon guffawing loudly beside her.

“It’s a loose leaf earl grey blend from a tea house my brother owns in merry olde England.” Darcy explained fondly as her giggles settled down. “Though I generally try to avoid the whole conspicuous consumption thang, I’m always a sucker for a nice high tea. Food variety is one of the perks of being a teleporter.” The woman said, giving the spy a sly wink.

“You may want to pop back for supply runs a bit more often, assuming, of course, you don’t want to feel the widow’s poison bite.” Natasha said seriously, though her eyes sparkled with mirth and the beginnings of a smile curved her lips.

“Ahhh, but you see, I’m more than happy to feel the widow's bite...in each. And. every. Sensitive place on my body. So alas, the tea may remain, stuck forever, with the curse-ed Brits.” The brunette sassed back, wiggling her eyebrows at the innuendo.

Natasha rolled her eyes fondly at the woman until a thought occurred to her. Smirking devilishly the spy casually shifted to stare intensely at the brunette, looking for any hint of deception or artifice. “Even if I were to order you to?” The spy pressed, her voice going low and rough with intensity.

The mask of constant irreverent sass slowly slid off the brunette. What was left was only raw, hungry desire, as the demons cheeks flushed and eyes blew wide. The demon’s gaze dropped to her lap and back up, the woman having difficulty meeting Natasha’s intent observation.

“A case will be on your counter tomorrow Ma’am.” Darcy practically squeaked out. Natasha felt something primal and hot shift inside her, and she licked her lips as she thanked the brunette.

A silence seemed to settle onto the conversation as both women turned to stare off into the distance. The sounds of crickets and the soft slurps of tea the only noises breaking the evening. Darcy seemed content to let Natasha take the lead for a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable about how the atmosphere of the night had turned.

For her part, worries and questions still swirled in Natasha brain. Some old, some very new. Though, now they conflicted with the strangest sense of hope and...something warm, pleasant and longing. Despite her training, she found it oddly hard to focus with the chaos in her brain. Too much was happening, too many questions about the future, too many missions too soon together, too many unprocessed feelings and events in the last few years refused to quiet down. When she did eventually break the silence her question was hardly as articulate as she wanted it to be.

“W-why? Why me? Why ask me out? Especially like that? We hardly know each other.” The spy inquired, her voice raw and thick with emotion. Sipping her tea to mask the emotions playing on her face she turned to look at the brunette.

The demon’s eyes softened, getting sad and a touch wistful. Darcy took a long, shuddering breath, and paused to consider her words. Though, predictably what came out of her mouth was suitably Darcy. Irreverent, unexpected, crass and more than a little silly.

“Cause your hot.” Darcy blurted finally, which caused Natasha to bristle and quirk a brow dangerously. The demon spluttered in embarrassment only seconds later when she realized what she said.

“Fuck, uh, shit, goddamn. I suck at this. Suffice to say that means something very different to me than it does to most of the rest of the world. It’s not about your perfect tits or shapely ass, though those are objectively perfect. It’s about who you are.” Darcy hastened to add, calming down visibly when Natasha let some of the tension go out of her shoulders.

Clearly still nervous though, Darcy ran a hand into her long silky hair and started fiddling awkwardly. “So, for now, since Steve ain’t here, can we maybe dispense with the whole, best foot forward, make a good impression as the ambassador from hell thing? Let me just be Darcialeutrix for a few minutes? Messy millenia long history and all?” The demon asked hesitantly, glancing back to Natasha. The spy gave her a brief nod before she continued.

“Suffice to say, I’ve known you… a hell of a lot longer than you have me. Hell, uh...has an interest in the goings on around Earth. There’s a certain amount of wheeling and dealing, black ops shit and all the messy back room stuff one might expect of foreign powers interacting.” Darcy explained as Natasha nodded along, unsurprised. The spy had more or less assumed that hell had to have at least played _some_ role in geopolitical politics and spy craft.

“You...came up on our radar pretty fast when the red room started sending you out on missions. Particularly after Vladivostok.” The demon practically whispered.

Natasha chest clenched, hard and fearful even as she forced her face to perfect stillness. To say she was surprised was an understatement. Vladivostok was one of those missions pre-shield that the assassin just could not process. That seemed to throw a hard weight of unyielding guilt around her neck everytime she thought of it. The spy had stuffed the memory down as far as it could go. To her knowledge, only Clint knew of it, and only because she’d been incredibly drugged recovering from budapest. It’d been literal decades and still the memory was as fresh and raw as the day it happened.

...but then, you never really get over burning down a children’s hospital after stealing the results of a competitors shady medical experiments.

“How much- how much do you know? About me? What happened?” Natasha started asking, voice a harsh hiss.

“About the serum? About what those fucking sadists did to you and the rest of the girls? About what they forced you to do? Oh yes Nat, I know every bit of it. I personally made sure to snap up and hide away all the backups and copies of their records after you and Clint dismantled their operation. You can have them if you want, but no one else has seen them.” Darcy explained, her eyes looking both incredibly sad and impossibly old. Feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable Natasha had to look away as the combined weight of millenia long experience threatened to break down her walls.

“Then...why? If you know all that sordid history, why ask me? Of all people, why ask the woman with so much red on her ledger?” The redhead croaked out, her voice barely above a forlorn whisper. Despite her decades of training she curled in on herself, burying her face in her knees as silent tears fell from her eyes.

The demon seemed to pause at that, and waited for Natasha to slowly drag her gaze back up. The spy was incredibly grateful for the brief reprieve to pull herself back together, even if she knew it probably wouldn’t last.

“Natasha...Hell, or- I as well, we don’t judge this shit on some cosmic balance sheet, add up the bad acts and tally the good. We don’t quantify if your a good person or not. Heaven...heaven has a very specific set of rules, set in almost absolute stone by god. Break any more than twice and you’re heading my way. Almost nobody meets them anymore. Every member of the Avengers was doomed to hell by the time they were 16.” Darcy says, trying to inject a bit of levity with her last statement, but the attempt falls utterly flat. Natasha just stares at the demon, trying and failing to see her point.

Darcy sighs and scratches her head for a second, thinking. “All that to say Natasha. For you like almost everybody alive today, hell is ultimately the one that judges whether what you’ve done was bad or deserves punishment…and hell believes in second chances.” Darcy says, looking hesitant and a bit sheepish.

“So?” Natasha asks, her eyes staring the demon down, refusing to back down.

“Did you ever wonder why, after you got out, your cover was blown all of a sudden in Malta? When a set of senior SHIELD agents just happened to be suited out for combat a few kilometers away? Why those agents just happened to be Coulson and Clint, two of the best, most forgiving men any agency has ever had?” The demon asks leadingly. Her light tone completely at odds with how the comments smash into the spies brain and cause her stomach to drop out from under her.

“What do you- did you- I don’t understand.” Natasha mumbled, her hands shaking and fresh tears spilling from her face. She set her tea cup down and fisted her hands in her hair to distract herself.

“That’s why I asked you out. Because your one of the best people I know. Because given half a chance to be good, you took it with all your might and reinvented yourself. Because every hour of every day since you’ve worked to be better, inspiring others by example. Because you make time to help everyone around you, whether it be training, or protection, or helping them drown their sorrows or just by lending an ear.” Darcy started explaining. The redhead’s gaze snapping up to the demon, some warm, sad, hopeful and utterly raw feeling beating in her chest.

“-and that’s why we’re sitting her, having a chat after the end of the world that wasn’t. Why I want to spend more time with you, and get to know what it feels like to be your...well, friend or maybe lover, I’m not picky. Dinner can just be dinner after all.” Darcy said with a laugh and a grin. Her mirth was belied by the way her eyes had gone soft and a little sad, the spy intuiting how much the demon seemed to care about the outcome.

Darcy paused her monologue and took a deep breath. Suddenly the demons entire expression shifted. Her grin becoming shark like and vicious. The spy idly wondered if her teeth always looked that sharp, or if it was just a trick of the light.

“And...that’s why, whenever the worst should happen, you’ll either be reincarnated or get a nice cushy apartment in Hell. Your choice. That’s why I’m not going to stabbing hot pokers into your ass every sunday for a decade. You know, like I did with most of the sadistic cunts who abused you and the other girls. They made their choice, they didn’t regret it and they spat on their own second chances.” Darcy hissed angrily, spitting the last statement like it offended her.

Natasha shuddered involuntarily. The response of an animal acknowledging a dangerous predator. That was the moment truly realized that Darcy really truly was a demon, and how different a being that actually was. It was also the moment that something deep inside her seemed to...not unclench, but at least loosen like a knot being worried at. The spy had always been aware she’d had a bit of a vicious, revenge seeking streak. Usually it made her uncomfortable...but right now it was just cathartic.

The pair fell silent after that, both absorbing and processing the conversation. The night droned on, cicadas chirping as tea cups were emptied and refilled until the pot cooled. The entire time Natasha was thinking, mulling over her next move while Darcy gave her time and space. When the bright waxing moon was high in the sky above them the redhead spoke, her voice a deceptively casual whisper.

“Do you happen to like classical music?” Natasha asked.

Darcy turned to face Natasha, a broad grin splitting her face and her expression beaming happiness. “I happen to know the Vienna Philharmonic is playing saturday after dinner...and I have standing tickets to a box seat and the ability to teleport.” She responded, grinning like a loon.

Natasha smirked back at the demon. “It’s a date.” She huffed as she turned to head back inside. The redhead gave an amused shake of her head at the happy whoop that echoed from the demon over her shoulder.


	5. We Have Cookies!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Darcy attempt to dialog v2.0. Deus ex Carter saves the day.

*****************************************  
“Miss Lewis, I apologize again for being so obstinate, but I’m sure you understand our concerns. We’re trusting the safety of a valued member of our team, of our highly unusual extended family in your care.” Steve said, voice tight and politically even. The big lug, for all his faults, seemed to be genuinely trying to be more civil this time round. 

Not that Darcy particularly gave a fuck. The princess of hell was most certainly out of stock for every single fuck she had to give regarding their “concerns”. Case in point: the demon was loudly and obnoxiously slurping a cup of tea, visibly barely paying attention to Steve’s rambling. She’d propped her spiked heels up on the table, idley using the leverage to squeak her chair back and forth. The faintest hint of a smirk on her face betraying the intentionality of her low key trolling (and her relish at the way that funny little vein on Steve’s forehead kept popping out of frustration). 

Plus, hey, it’s not like Darcy was without support or friendship in the room. The demon was currently sitting at the head of the large conference table the majority of the avengers found themselves in. Natasha and Bucky flanked either side, with Thor and Jane adding an extra layer of buffer from the mother hens (aka Tony, Steve and Maria). 

Ultimately though, the results of the discussion mattered not a whit to her. The princess of hell was still gonna do exactly what she wanted to do, either way. The contract Nat had signed specified Darcy would own her soul if she reneged on the bargain. The demon had every damn intention of the world of keeping the lovely woman alive and around as long as possible. No way was she jeopardizing that over a bunch of nagging mother hens clucking around for no reason. 

So, in the spirit of not giving a fuck, Darcy’s friends and her were having a delightful tea party in the midst of the briefing. The demon had ordered a pot of deliciously strong Chai direct from bombay. The strong spice and creamy texture danced over her tongue as she offered a plate of sweets to Nat. Grinning impishly when the spy sent her a pointed glare over the demon’s antics in the meeting. Though her gaze turned warm and affectionate as she took a sugary pastry from the plate, so no harm done (and dark gods below, the moan that woman makes as she licked the icing off her chin should be damn illegal).

Darcy is distracted from her blatant eye fucking of the red head (and the hungry heat starting to thrum in her core) by an indignant clearing of the throat from a certain blonde. 

“Look, before we give the go ahead for the date, we just want to be assured of your intentions and motivations. Towards both Natasha and the world at large.” Steve finished explaining, posture a bit stiff, but open enough to be inviting actual, real discussion. 

The umber haired princess sighed longsufferingly at having to actually be political and actually do a thing. She gave her chair one last annoying screeching squeak before she dropped her legs from the table and leaned forward. 

“Okay, you want me to explain my intentions and motivations? It’s quite simple, I’ll give you the Princess Darcialeutrix intention decoder ring.” Darcy said with a mischievous grin, waving her hands excitedly. Her grin only widened at the warring expressions of wry amusement (on her friends faces) and exasperation (on the mother hens).

“Darcy did a thing. There are three options as to why. Option 1: It was fun and it didn’t hurt anybody. Option 2: I was bored and the hurt and/or annoyance was minor mischievous fun. Option 3: Someone had to goddamn do it, so it might as well be me. Apply as needed.” The demon explained, her tone light but to be honest only half joking. What can she say, boredom was a powerful motivator for a millenias old demon. 

Unfortunately though, Steve and Co seemed distinctly less amused with her than anyone else in the room. The party poopers. All of them make exasperated motions for her to go on and explain further. Le sigh. 

“So yeah. Learning political science and hanging around with Jane for years? All of the option 1 baby! Girl knows how to rock a tequila body shot. Tasing Thor? Option 2 allllll the way. Learn to knock Thor-bro. Sif was tired, bilgesnipe or no. ” Darcy had to pause her tirade briefly for a giggle break. 

A look of comprehension and shocked sad puppyness slowly dawned over Thor’s big mug (the dark and gritty eyepatch unfortunately spoiling the effect some). Oh yeah, Darcy tooootally knew who Thor was right away. She’d been miffed at him for cockblocking her and Sif the last time she’d made a trip to Asgard in demon form. Because seriously dude?! The warrior was hot as all hell and had weeks of pent up horny aggression that Darcy was oh so fucking ready to help her out with. But nooooo, apparently Bilgesnipe hunting couldn’t wait a goddamn hour. What. The fuck. Asshole.

Darcy marshaled her features once again to continue her story. For serious this time. 

“Anywho, more relevantly. Asking a certain badass redhead on a date? Option 1. She’s gorgeous and smart and I just have the biggest crush in the world. I fully intend to make sure she keeps her end of the deal so she keeps her wonderful soul in her gorgeous body. After that, I intend to spend all the time she’d want me with her and no more.” Darcy explained, a soft and fond look coming over her face. She risks a glance at the spy sitting beside her, who has micro non-expression #5 firmly in place: vaguely fond yet mildly annoyed at your antics. The moment is interrupted a few seconds later by another fucking throat clearing (goddamn, get a lozenge people). 

“How about the Thanos situation you ask? Well, Heaven was in trouble. With modern morality barely any souls were coming to the pearly gates to help the realm maintain it’s magical strength. Panic at the heavenly choir!!! Queue Thanos making a deal with god. Power in exchange for him reaping a shitton of souls to send to heaven. Option. Fucking. 3. Someone’s gotta fix it and it might as well be me. I have no ill intentions to the world more broadly.” Darcy finally finished explaining, her words getting just a touch more aggressive and pointed.

“Okay, I understand that Miss Lewis, but you must realize we only have your word on that. Is there any way you could help us verify your intentions more concretely?” Steve asked, still keeping the patiently considering tone in place, even if a hint of frustration bled through his tone. 

“Dark gods below, was Pegs ever right about how much of a stick you were gonna have up your ass about the whole demon from hell thing.” Darcy huffed in exasperation, folding her arms across her chest and pouting.

Steve stiffed at that, his face going pale and wan and his entire demeanor betraying desolate shock. “Peggy... Peggy went to hell?” He said with a morose air. The entire atmosphere of the room becoming clogged with awkward silence. Several team members shooting Steve sad looks of understanding and sympathy. 

Darcy, ever the diplomat, gave absolutely no fucks about the shocking emotional revelation shaking up Steve’s entire worldview. 0 fucks at all. 

“Uh, of course? Heaven has very particular rules about ‘the queers’ after all.“ Darcy says with a snort, briefly putting down her teacup. Natasha and Bucky send her somewhat reproachful looks of caution. Of course, she probably could have broken the news with more tact...but yeah, 0 fucks given. Rip that bandaid off motherfucker. Maybe give it some salt, just for fun. 

“Pegs was just a bit broken up after you did your nosedive into the ocean. I spent a good decade helping her work through her feelings via kinky sex and shitty gin in numerous gay bars and dance halls.” Darcy explains, smirking at the pained whimper that elicits from the super soldier. 

“Ahhh, so many memories. All the lovely femme boi’s and subby girls we used to wreck in the bathrooms. Lady was a BAMF with a strap-on.” Darcy explains, a look of the fondest nostalgia and happiness washing over her features. Her smirk looking more and more like the cat that got the cream as she picks up on a certain blushing blond super soldier’s increasing sense of lust (mixed with sadness and guilt yes, but still a whole heaping tablespoon of lust). 

“Oh, then she married Manuel! Oh, sweet Manuel and his perfect bubbly ass and sexy as hell accent. They were voted absolute cutest goddamn couple in the world every time they got out to the bars. I’ve rarely met a man so happy to be in a chastity cage, or one who had such an adoring sense of love in his eyes. They were so sweet together...and the put on the absolute best shows when they got out of the house.” Darcy purrs, snapping her fingers and teleporting a set of old racy photos she took as...mementos. 

Just as she’s about to drop the mic and slide the stack of photos across to Steve her (magically enhanced) cell phone rings where it was left on the table. Rather than wait for her to respond it immediately turns to speaker and a sharp feminine voice echoes through the room. 

“Darcy fucking Leutrix, you utter shameless cheeky brat. What in all the nine hells do you think you’re goddamn doing?” Snaps the unmistakable voice of Peggy Carter. 

Darcy curses, wincing momentarily. She shoots a glare over at Tony who’s perked right the hell up with a look of utter mischievous glee on his face (of course, she can understand, the man’s had his balls crushed by Pepper enough times to know what’s fucking coming next). Steve on the other hand looks stunned for a moment before a look of absolute wonder takes its place. 

“Pegs, hey love. Look, uh, sorry. Got a bit carried away th-” Darcy begins before an indignant snort interrupts her hurried defense.

“Oh, just save it missy. I know exactly what happened. Steve was being a right wanker, now Princess petty has a grudge and wants to scar the poor naive boy for life. Not even taking the time to think through that those are private cunting photos. ” Peggy accused, voice whip crack sharp. 

“Petty?! I resent that accusation!” Protested the demon half heartedly, looking sheepish. Fuck fuck fuck, bratty Darcy is not smart Darcy. 

“Yes yes sweetheart. You’re absolutely not a petty brat. You’re very insistent on that, I understand.” Peggy said, the sarcastic eye roll practically bleeding through the phone. “Now if you’re quite done being a pillock, would you kindly do the damn thing your brother asked you to and stop wasting all our time?” The brit demanded expersatedly. The demon shrinks back under the sharp looks the mother hens start shooting her. 

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine mom. I was just about to anyway before you asked.” The demon huffed, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. 

“Don’t you take that tone with me missy, or there will absolutely be hell to pay.” Peggy practically growled out. 

“Oh, are you going to spank me mistress? However shall I survive?” Darcy joked with a snicker. 

“Just for that we’re doing an extensive bastinado scene the next time you come round.” The brit barked in response. Darcy’s face fell, blanching instantly and cursing under her breath momentarily (what?! Getting smacked on the feet suuuuuuuuuucks).

“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am. I’ll let them know Ma’am.” Darcy answered contritely. Silently, the demon sent an annoyed glare roving over the snickering audience. Most of the team barely holding back cackles her sudden change in demeanor. Natasha on the other hand has a cheshire grin forming over her face. Darcy yelps at the teasing poke the spy gives her ribs. 

“See that you do. Toodles.” Peggy said, voice smug beyond description. A second later the woman signed off the phone and the snickers turned into full belly laughs. Predictably, Tony was the first to give her shit about. 

“So, Aunt Pegs has got the princess of hell whipped even from beyond the grave huh? Can’t say I’m surprised any.” The billionaire jokes, looking entirely too fucking smug for Darcy’s tastes.

“Hey, sugartits. I absolutely know what you and Pepper get up to in the bedroom. Your not one to talk. Besides, I have absolutely zero shame about having a thing for strong, bossy women. Girl can have a type.” The demon huffed, jutting her chin out and daring the billionaire to give her anymore shit.

“Which I, for one, am most appreciative of. Regardless, we seem to be getting off track. What was it that Peggy was mentioning you were ignoring?” Natasha said, adroitly cutting off the banter to press the issue of the moment. Still, there was little chance of missing the telling (for a demon anyway) warm huskiness to her tone. The mental images of Darcy being bent over Peggy’s knee clearly doing it for the spy, and in return causing Darcy to blush profusely. 

“Yes, uhm w-well.” Darcy sputtered momentarily before snapping her fingers again. The photos disappear to be replaced with a larger manilla folder that Darcy throws down onto the table. Opening it up, a series of glossy event invitations spill out. A reasonably tasteful series of naked1 or leather and rubber clad beings of numerous gender persuasions draw the eye. 

“Big bro-Aba, aka Lord Abaddon, prince of death has suggested that maybe what we need to do in order to build trust is let you guys get a more first hand experience of what hell has to offer. Aside from the standard boooooring diplomatic meetings and stuff, there’s a big festival of the damned going on next weekend. So, you’re all invited to swing by hell and see what’s up.” Darcy explained, pulling out and pointing out a proposed contract to hand off to the avenger’s legal team (hell is very particular about the whole, mortals crossing its boundaries temporarily thing). 

The team takes a moment to look over the documents, shock, hesitant intrigue and lust among the reactions. Hushed (but luckily mostly positive) muttering bounces through the room as the different parties consider the offer. Steve’s though, has the most amusing reaction by faaaaar. 

“M-M-Miss Lewis?! A-Are you inviting us...to a... diplomatic sex p-party?!?!?!?!” The blonde super soldier stutters, blushing an alarmingly shade of beat red and his voice cracking like a teenager. Bucky snickers adoringly at the far too easily embarrassed man. 

“Yes Steve. That is exactly what I’m doing. Specifically, a diplomatic sex party where Peggy Carter will be beating her slave boy on stage, likely wearing little more than a leather corset. Do with that information what you will.” Darcy responds, utterly deadpan and sincere. 

The super soldier just gapes at that, mouth hanging open like a hooked fish. He’s barely breathing, and for a second Darcy is honestly afraid the man is going to pass out from all the blood flowing southward in his body. Bucky though, ever the little shit, snaps him out of it by leaning over and flicking the blonde’s nose.

“Still shit at talking to dames, huh, Stevie?” He jokes. 

“Come to hell, we have cookies!” Darcy adds on, snickering with far too much amusement. 

“I uh, we’ll need to… we should, uhm, discuss, uh, t-think about it m-more!” Steve bumbles out, voice cracking even more. Shit at talking to dames indeed. 

“Cool, well, this has been a great talk and all, but you know, time zone differences are a thing. So, if you don’t mind, me and Nat are going to that date now.” Darcy barks out, already moving to snap her fingers even as Steve and Tony are calling out for her to wait a moment.

A second later the pair of women are standing in a fashionably minimalist, well decorated apartment in New York city. The afternoon sun is just starting to wane and the hustle and bustle of the evening rush hour is just starting to filter in through the window. Darcy turns to the redhead with an impish grin. Eye’s full of mischief and mirth, her voice husky and bubbly. 

“So, shall we get changed then? Or do you maybe have any other ideas for what we might do with a spare hour?” The demon says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.


End file.
